


our troubles will be miles away

by Chash



Series: what I've been trying to say [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8277181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Bellamy's first three Christmases with Clarke.





	

Bellamy's phone rings at 8:11 on Christmas morning, which he really should have expected. He even was expecting it; he knew Marcus would call way too early. Unfortunately, he left his phone in the living room, because he was assuming he'd pick it up after he left Clarke's room, instead of staying in Clarke's room. Because he got laid.

Because she _loves him_. It still feels like a dream, but he's all wrapped around her and she's asleep and naked, so it's clearly not. And when he tries to extricate himself from her, she makes an unhappy noise and holds on tighter, which--god, this might be the best Christmas ever. He really hopes that doesn't make him a bad father. He's had tons of good holidays, but--he's never had anything work out for him like Clarke. Even though he'd been planning to tell her, he hadn't thought it could possibly go this well.

He kisses her shoulder. "It's definitely Marcus calling," he murmurs. "I need to talk to him."

"Come back in here," she says, fuzzy with sleep. "I want to talk to him too."

He feels a little self-conscious going into the living room naked, but he knows it's irrational. They've had sex. She likes seeing him naked. If her eyes are open, she's probably appreciating the view.

He gets the phone just before it goes to voicemail, and talking to his son while he's naked is really much weirder than hanging out with his new girlfriend while he's naked, so he goes to his room for clean boxers.

"Hey, Merry Christmas," he tells Marcus. "It's not even eight there, don't tell me you already did presents."

"No one else is awake," he says, like this is the worst thing that has ever happened. "We're not doing presents until _ten_."

"Ten? That's just mean."

"I know. It's so late! Did you and Clarke already open yours?"

Clarke is sitting up in bed, stretching, and still very naked; Bellamy tosses her a shirt more because he can't handle seeing her breasts right now than because he doesn't want to. He can grope her when he's off the phone.

"Uh, not yet," he says. "You know Clarke, she's barely awake."

"But she is? Merry Christmas, Clarke!"

"He says Merry Christmas," Bellamy tells her. 

She pulls on the shirt, grinning. "Merry Christmas, Marcus. Put him on speaker phone."

"We're going to do presents after coffee," he says. He's not sure what she could possibly give him that's better than the good-father list and being in love with him, but he's always down for presents. It's just that everything he got her feels a lot less cool, in comparison. "You're on speaker, say hi."

"Hi, Clarke!"

"Hi, Marcus." She slides her arms around Bellamy, resting her head on his shoulder, and he kisses her hair. "Did you already do presents?"

"Not until ten," says Bellamy.

"Then why are you awake?" she asks. "It's seven-fifteen there. You could still be asleep."

"You can't sleep on _Christmas_ , Clarke."

"Maybe you can't. I can always sleep."

"What did you and Dad get for presents last night?"

Clarke glances at him, eyebrows raised, and he rubs the back of his neck. "She got me a card, and I got her a book."

"A card?" Marcus asks, sounding vaguely horrified. "Clarke! That's not even a real present."

"It was a nice card," says Bellamy.

"Was there money in it?"

"Nope," says Clarke. "I'm cheap." She kisses his shoulder. "But I got him some other stuff too. I just figured I'd give him the most boring present first."

"I guess," says Marcus, and Clarke changes the subject to Sterling's relatives. Bellamy mostly watches her, the way she smiles as Marcus chatters, the way her hair falls over her shoulder. It doesn't even make sense, that he can just get her like this. That she's somehow his.

"You should try to go back to sleep for a little while," Clarke advises, when Marcus yawns. "Just sleep on the couch or something, so you'll wake up when everyone else comes down for presents."

"You said sleeping on the couch would hurt my back."

"Just if you do it a lot. Christmas is a special occasion."

"Okay. I'll call you later. I hope you get better presents, Dad!"

Clarke slides into his lap once the call is over, giving him a long kiss, her fingers dancing over his stomach. He's glad she's about as into his chest as he's into hers. "For the record, this is the best present ever," he tells her. 

"I thought so too. What's the book?"

"Oh, uh-- _From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler_." She cocks her head, and he feels himself flush. "Yeah, uh--it's a kid's book. I really liked it when I was little, and O did too. It's about these two kids who run away from home and to live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I thought--" He wets his lips. "I thought you might want to read it to Marcus."

Her smile is so pleased that all his anxiety melts away. When she kisses him again, it's soft and slow, and her fingers find his to squeeze. "So you got Marcus something to do with me and me something to do with him."

"I figured I'd be around too." He swallows. "Even if, uh--if he moves, then it's stuff we can do when he visits, or whatever. Something to look forward to."

"So you were planning to keep me too," she says, ducking her head, and he smiles.

"I told you I had a speech."

"Oh right, the speech. About how you love me."

"Yeah, I had a whole plan."

She pushes him down onto his back so she can settle on top of him. "What was the plan?"

"Book followed by sappy love confession, basically. A lot of--" Even now, with her mostly naked and on top of him, obvious and undeniably into him and all his shit, it feels like too much. "Fuck, it's not like I could just ask you out on a date. I felt like it had to be epic."

Her mouth is soft against his jaw. "You're acting like you're the only drama queen here, Bellamy. I basically wrote you a love letter for Christmas."

"About how I'm a good dad."

"A good love letter is all about what the recipient wants to hear. And that is why I love you. All the stuff that makes you a good dad--it makes you a good guy, too." Her hand traces his side, absent. "It doesn't need to be epic. I don't care about epic. I just want this."

Bellamy thinks if anyone in the world deserves to look a gift horse in the mouth, it's him. None of the good things in his life have ever seemed like it. He was pissed to get a little sister he had to watch and horrified when Roma told him she was pregnant. He wouldn't give up Octavia or Marcus for anything, but he's always been aware that he doesn't want either his sister or his son to have his life. All his happiest memories have strings.

And here's Clarke, who's been the living embodiment of all the luck he never had since that party, who gave him a sympathetic ear and a plan and a place to live, who says she loves him, that she wants to be a part of his life, even knowing exactly how complicated his life is.

"That's plenty epic for me," he says.

She kisses his shoulder. "That's what I'm saying. Get up, I want breakfast."

She tugs on underwear, but doesn't bother getting any more dressed, and she sits on the counter while he makes French toast at her request.

"My dad always used to make French toast on Christmas," she says. "Usually I do it myself if he's not around, but you're a better cook than I am."

"And if I keep doing all the cooking, I always will be."

She grins. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Cooking is a useful skill, Clarke."

"I can cook things."

"Uh huh." He leans up to press his mouth against hers, quick. He assumes the novelty will wear off at some point; he hopes it's before Marcus gets back. " _Things_ is a good description of what you cook."

"Dick." She catches her lip in her teeth. "What about you?"

"I'm an awesome cook."

"Not cooking. Christmas. I know you and Marcus do presents at midnight. Any other traditions we should be keeping?"

"Oh. Uh, honestly--Christmas Day usually kind of sucks?"

"Really?"

"Not all of it. Presents are cool, and then dinner with O. Just--we had to see Roma's family. For _brunch_."

Her mouth twitches. "Oh no, not brunch." But her expression sobers. "You guys don't get along?"

"They're always polite. But--you know, her dad thanked me for _doing the right thing by her_. When we got married. Which is something, I guess, but I think they never forgot I had to do wrong by her before I could do right by her after."

"You didn't do _wrong_ ," Clarke says, sharp. "You guys had sex. Because you wanted to. That's as much on her as it is on you. It's gross to--"

He kisses her again. "They're also gross, yeah," he says, smiling. "And generally bigoted. Not, you know--they'd never say anything directly. It's pretty lowkey."

"But you're poor and brown," she supplies.

"And Roma was in college when we found out about the baby. So it derailed her life for a while."

"But they're the ones who told her not to get an abortion."

"Yeah. And--I'm not mad about it. They're pretty good grandparents to Marcus. They helped us out a lot the first couple years, and I'm grateful. But if I never see them again, I won't be upset either."

"My parents like you," she says, a little soft. Like she's not sure it's okay.

Obviously he doesn't _mind_ , but it is confusing. "Based on what?"

"My dad likes everyone I like. My mom likes that you live here and you're probably going to stay here, because she figures that means I will too. And they both think Marcus is adorable." She smiles at his expression. "You're not the only one who's obvious, Bellamy. I showed them pictures at Thanksgiving."

"If Marcus goes to Wisconsin, I might have to too," he admits.

"Yeah, I know." Her smile is a little sad. "I feel like if I say I'd probably want to try long distance first, you'd think it was a bad thing. Given my history."

"Nah." He shrugs off her confused look. "You said you _didn't_ want to do long distance with your ex. If you'd want to try it with me if I moved, I'm not worried."

"I guess."

He dishes up the French toast, and she follows him to the couch to eat, snuggling in against his side again. It's good to know she wants to touch him as much as he wants to touch her.

"You never told me about anyone you've dated except Niylah," he observes.

"Boring or terrible," she says, and he laughs.

"I just told you how much my in-laws hate me. Your turn."

"With my high-school boyfriend, there's really nothing to say. He was a nice guy, we went out for a few months, I had some pretty bad sex that I didn't know was bad. Second boyfriend seemed a lot better. He was kind of--" She considers. "You know how sometimes, life feels like a movie? Like something should happen just because that's what would happen if it was a rom-com or whatever?"

"I tend to be more Lifetime original movie about single parents," he says. "But yeah."

"That's how it was with Finn. I was basically, you know. A good kid. In high school. I went to parties sometimes, got drunk, but--nothing really rebellious. And Finn was, you know. Impulsive. The kind of guy who would come by at midnight to say we should go skinny-dipping." He must make a face, because she elbows him, laughing. "I was a freshman in college! I thought it was cool. Exciting."

"So, he was a douche."

"A douche who had another girlfriend."

"Jesus." He squeezes her. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah. He gave me this whole speech about our _connection_ and how he was going to break up with her, but--yeah. He was still with her when he was with me, and that's never okay. It sucked, because I liked him a lot, but looking back, he wasn't really--even if he hadn't cheated on Raven, it wouldn't have lasted."

"Raven, like, your friend Raven?"

"Yeah, that's how we met."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Silver lining. So that was freshman year, and I was kind of not looking for a while after that. Hooked up sometimes, but mostly not worrying about it."

"Until?"

"Lexa." She sighs. "She was the first girl I ever--you know, I thought I was bi, but I'd only ever been with guys before her. So it was really exciting, to finally find someone. And she was--it was really easy to get swept up in her. It was a few months before I realized I'd lost touch with all my friends, and she was always--I didn't like who I was with her, because I was either always agreeing with her or always defending myself. It wasn't healthy, and I'd ignored everyone who told me it wasn't, because--" She shakes her head. "Because I liked her, and I liked how it felt, when it was going well."

"That sounds pretty healthy. Not the relationship, but you figured it out and broke it off. Good call."

She grins. "I realized it at a party and I was drunk, so it turned into a massive fight. It would have been really mature, if I'd actually finished all those thoughts and had an adult conversation about it."

"So close."

"Niylah went better. It still sucked, but--it was the right call."

"Yeah."

"What about you and Roma?"

"What about us?"

"Did you ever try to make it work? As a real couple."

"Yeah. Or--I don't know. We weren't really dating when I got her pregnant. She and Miller went to the same college, that's how I met her. I'd go to parties with him, we started hooking up. I never lied to her or anything, but--it was fun. Not that serious. I liked her, she liked me, we hung out, but it's not like I was ever her boyfriend."

"And then she got pregnant."

"Yeah. I just assumed she'd go to Planned Parenthood. We always used condoms, so--" He shrugs. "We hadn't really talked about our feelings on abortion or anything, but I didn't think she wanted a kid. She said she didn't believe in that, and I wasn't going to let her do it alone. So we got married, and--it was fine. The first few years. It's wasn't--" He stops, because he realizes he was about to say, _It's wasn't like with you_ , and that's a lot. And it wasn't like he had Clarke to compare Roma too, back then.

But he knew if they didn't have Marcus, they wouldn't be together. And he knows even after less than a day that being with Clarke is better than being with Roma ever had been.

"You were friends," Clarke supplies. "Not a couple."

"Friends with benefits, but yeah." It's strange, too, thinking about how much he never talked about any of this. It always felt like he was giving up or failing, when he talked about his marriage. Like he should have tried harder, even though it wasn't right for either of them. "So, when Marcus was four, we left him with his grandparents and went to the company Christmas party. And we hadn't--I guess now is the point when you care about details of my sex life."

"Only if you do. I don't need a play-by-play."

"Sex wasn't ever much of a priority. We fooled around when she was pregnant, and then the baby came and it just kind of--we were exhausted all the time. I was working, she was in school, we were both coordinating taking care of the baby, and I still had O to watch most days. Our mom had a really bad boyfriend, back then. So we went to the party, got drunk, and hooked up. I didn't think it meant much, but--she went out and got the morning-after pill after." He scrubs his face. "Fuck. I don't blame her, I don't even care, I just--I always wanted more kids. And it's not like I think we were ready, but she seemed so freaked out that it could happen again. And it just felt like--we could never work, after that."

"Did you guys talk about it?"

"Yeah. Not for a while, but--once she finished college, we did a kind of state of the union thing. And we decided we'd stay together until something better came along."

"That's fucked up," she says.

"Divorce sucks. Trust me. I'm glad we're doing it now, but I'm not mad we put it off."

"Not that, just--" She kisses his shoulder. "I think you guys probably did the best you could. But it's--I still kind of hate her for doing that to you."

"I think we did it to each other. And I wasn't miserable or anything. It hurt, but--I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with her, Clarke. Another kid would have been a fucking terrible idea."

"Yeah, but still. There's no way she could do better than you."

"Sterling loves her. I don't. That's better." He moves their plates out of the way so he can crowd her against the couch for a greedy kiss. "Please don't tell me you want me to reconcile with my ex-wife. I don't care if she doesn't appreciate me."

Her hand anchors itself in his hair, firm. "No. I just want her to realize you're the best."

"I'm getting there," he says. "But you can say it as much as you want."

*

"That wasn't terrible, right?"

"I still hate brunch as a concept," he says. "But no, not terrible."

Clarke tugs him in by his tie, leaning up for a kiss. "Thanks for coming. My mom was totally charmed and forgave me for missing Thanksgiving."

"She just likes Marcus."

"She likes you too. But not as much. You argued with her more."

"She's a republican, Clarke."

"Trust me, I know. I'm the one who's related to her." She kisses him again. "You were fine, Bellamy. You didn't even say her entire political party was racist."

"You did."

"Well, someone had to."

He laughs. "Yeah, but then you left Marcus alone with her."

"I'm pretty sure she won't ruin him in one afternoon. And I wanted to be alone with you," she adds, fingers deftly undoing his tie and getting rid of it. And then his shirt.

"Wow. I had no idea brunch with your mother was such a turn-on. I would have come to visit her sooner." He leans down to kiss her neck, mostly because they're staying in a hotel with them in one bed and Marcus in the other, so it's been a few days since they got the chance to have sex, and he has no interest in squandering this opportunity. He just also wants to tease her a little.

"I was actually planning to talk to you, but you're wearing a suit."

"So it's my fault, yeah." He tugs her back toward the bed. "What did you want to talk about?"

"My mom wants to know if we've set a date."

"We haven't."

"Then she wanted to know if we got engaged so quickly because I'm pregnant."

"Jesus, you really can't please everybody. You think it was too slow, your mom thinks it was too fast--"

"I don't think it was too slow!" she objects, laughing. "I thought it was cute you waited for our move-in anniversary, but couldn't wait for our actual anniversary."

"It's so cliched to propose on Christmas. It's bad enough that's our anniversary." He pulls back so he can look at her. "Are you pregnant? Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"No. But--we should be talking about that, right?"

"How you aren't pregnant?"

" _Bellamy_."

"Seriously, I didn't think there was anything to talk about."

"You want more kids."

"Yeah, I do. But it's not a deal-breaker."

Her smile is soft and only a little exasperated. "So, your plan was to never mention kids again in case you fucked something up?"

"Not never." He rolls off her, and she follows so she can curl into his side. He squeezes her shoulders, kisses her hair. "You're twenty-six," he says.

"And?"

"There's no rush for more kids. Unless you _want_ to be pregnant when we get married. If that's a kink for you, I don't--"

"Maybe I do."

Bellamy blinks, and she looks back at him, calm. "Uh. Really?"

"Not _when we get married_ , specifically. But I want at least one more kid, yeah. And it's not like if we start trying, it's just going to instantly happen, so--" She nuzzles his neck. "We can't start _today_ , I'm still on birth control. But I was thinking I could get off it. And we could definitely stop using two forms of protection today. Like, immediately after this conversation. I get why you want to be careful, but--we're pretty good parents. I think we could handle another one."

"We'd need a bigger place."

"We've been talking about looking for a bigger place anyway." She props herself on his chest. "We don't have to, if you're not ready. Just saying, I'm good. It's up to you."

He drops his head back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. "Fuck. No one in my family's ever gotten pregnant on purpose before."

"There's a first time for everything," she says, and settles in against him. "Just something to think about."

"You really want to do Christmas with a ten-year-old and a baby next year?"

"Or pregnant and unable to drink. I'm not picky."

She tucks herself into his side, her nose pressed under his jaw, and he lets his eyes close. She still doesn't feel real sometimes, in the best possible way. She's not perfect, and they don't always get along. He still sometimes feels guilty for leaving her alone with Marcus, like he's getting away with something, like he's asking too much of her, and she doesn't always know how to be the kind of parent he thinks she should be. They bicker about dishes and cooking and chores, more than he and Roma did, just because they talk so much more than he and Roma did.

But they're good together. He loves her and trusts her and wants to spend the rest of his life with her, and sometimes he's still expecting to wake up in some other life. Kids who grew up like he did don't get lives like this. He never thought he would. 

"Why is it weirder that you'll have my kid than that you'll marry me?" he asks.

"Because you always made your mind up about getting married," she says, with no hesitation. "Or maybe you just already did most of the work by the time I met Marcus so you didn't think I'd fuck him up, but you know I can't be trusted with one of my own right from the beginning--"

He laughs and kisses her. "You're going to be a great mom," he tells her, and she lights up.

"So, married and baby by next Christmas?"

He lets himself want it for the first time, and it's no surprise how much he does. "Or married and pregnant," he says. "I'm not picky."

*

"We probably should have seen this coming," Clarke says. "We jinxed it."

Marcus is looking at his sister with a wariness that's familiar to Bellamy, and he gives him a squeeze around the shoulders. "It's not fair her birthday is Christmas," Marcus says. "She's going to get twice as many presents."

"She's going to get the same amount of presents, just all at once," Clarke tells him, still miraculously coherent after hours of labor. "It wouldn't be fair if she got the same number of Christmas presents as you and no birthday presents."

"I guess not," he agrees, grudging. "But she gets them all at once."

"I hear that's actually bad. She's gonna spend her whole life having people giving her one present and saying it's for Christmas _and_ her birthday. That's not fair either." She glances at Bellamy. "Are you going to help me out here or what?"

"Nope, you've got this. I want to hold the baby."

Clarke rocks her once and then hands her over, and Marcus peers at her, still wary.

"She's not getting any presents this year," Clarke points out. "She has to wait a whole year for anything."

"Yeah, but she's a baby. She won't notice."

"See if I ever try to cheer you up again."

Marcus rolls his eyes at her, and then he's distracted by the baby again. "Can I hold her, Dad?"

"She's going to get dizzy, being passed around," Clarke says. 

Bellamy bends down, passing her into Marcus's arms. He's almost eleven, bigger and more stable than Bellamy himself was when his sister was born. And he's got four parents who all love him. It's not going to hurt him, holding his sister so early. Not when he has so many people to take her back when he's done.

"Make sure you support her head," he says, and Marcus cradles her carefully, like she's made of glass.

"You're heavy," he says. And then, softer, "Hi, Julie."

Clarke finds his hand and tugs him to her. He sits on the edge of the bed, kisses her temple. "You okay?" he asks.

"So far. I reserve the right to not be okay later." She yawns. "When do you think he's going to notice we haven't opened presents?"

"I noticed," Marcus says. "They aren't going anywhere."

Clarke smiles. "Good attitude." She closes her eyes and slumps against his side. "Merry Christmas."

"Yeah," he says. "They just keep getting better and better."


End file.
